


Color: Soot

by sammichgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5x16 DSoTM, M/M, Weecest, color inspo fic, just a hint of weecest, kind of a coda fic to, outsider pov, post july 4th 1996
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 20:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11409627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammichgirl/pseuds/sammichgirl
Summary: Outsider POV on July 5th 1996 after the brothers left fireworks residue in an open field.





	Color: Soot

A yawn and a rub at his still sleep muzzy eyes had him pulling over into the clearing off the road. He needed to wake up.  It was way too early to be out patrolling his fields, but experience had taught him if he didn’t, his crops would be destroyed.  If not from local wildlife he’d have to run off, then from the rowdy wild kids that occasionally tore up and down the backroads of his tiny hometown and sometimes drove through his corn. 

A farmer’s life was really not for him, he thought wryly for the millionth time.  Especially not the day after the fourth of July when he just wanted to nestle further in his comfortable bed and sleep the celebration off.  He downed a cup of coffee from the thermos he carried to keep him fueled and let his eyes adjust to the growing light of daybreak.

Knowing some stretching would help get his blood moving, he got out of the cab of his truck and stood, twisting this way and that, letting his gaze fall across the open area as his brain kicked online from caffeine and oxygenated blood.  He should really put up a small roadside produce shelter or something.  It was a pretty big space to go unused, but at the far end of his land.  Maybe just a lean-to and benches for folks finding themselves stranded.  The area needed something.

He started walking around to measure the space by foot, and stopped when he came to the middle of the clearing.  There was a small pile of used fireworks debris, and a fine layer of soot all around him. 

_Damn kids._

He couldn’t have imagined what really happened the night before.  Oh sure, a couple of kids with fireworks having a good time, that was obvious.  There was no way to know that the sparklers used couldn’t match the twinkling light in a 13 year old boy’s eyes.  How the laughter from his 17 year old brother boomed louder than the crack and pop of firing lights in the sky. 

When after their short personal celebration, they had laid on the hood of a classic ’67 Chevy Impala and took in the night sky, the stars above failing to outshine the ones in their own eyes.  Where they rested spooned together, whispering promises and connecting on a level that was soul binding, a captured moment in time.  How an inevitable kiss was given, just a brush of lips that stole breath from them both at the same time it slammed their hearts together, entangling them further.

That when emotion became too heavy to go on, playfulness ensued to break the tension.  A swipe of a finger covered in ashy soot to run down a small perfectly tipped nose and brush delicately against a mole.  Another finger dotting soot across the bridge of a cheekbone followed by giggling before they left as quietly as they’d come.

The farmer knelt down and ran his fingers through the fairly undisturbed ring of residue powder.  It was eerie how the small pile of refuse at his feet gave proof that someone had been there, but no footprints or tire tracks left evidence of any presence he could explain.


End file.
